


Polyrhythms

by airdeari



Series: self-indulgent aoilight within [6]
Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: I Will Describe The Doing Of It, M/M, it's for real this time, they're actually going to Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 04:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airdeari/pseuds/airdeari
Summary: the only reason this work isn't orphaned is because i will lose the permission to delete it if i orphan it and i don't want to let go of that possibility





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi i've never written porn and i'm not convinced i'm very good at it but i have a lot of Bad Feelings about sex because of sociocultural pressures and standards so i wanted to un-repress myself a little bit by writing this. it takes them 5000 words to even see a peen because i'm a disaster, enjoy

“You gonna do anything special now that you’ve got your stitches out?” she chirped.

Aoi did not know what she wanted from him. A day after the appointment was scheduled, she had announced that she would be having a girls’ night out with Alice that evening, as if trying to signal that the boys could make plans of their own. As close as the Field siblings were, there was no way that Clover could want an explicit declaration that Aoi was hoping to take her brother to bed tonight.

“Cook a decent goddamn dinner,” he sighed, staring out the window.

“That’s boring,” she sighed back.

“What about you and Alice? Tonight’s when you’re goin’ out, right?”

She stretched out a “yup” that scooped up through one and a half octaves. She did the same thing with her voice whenever she was giving a cheeky wink to Light.

“Well, what’re you doin’?” Aoi asked, desperate to keep the topic off of him.

“Are you trying to steal my awesome date ideas?!”

“Puttin’ on makeup and painting each other’s nails ain’t exactly a great date for me and Light.”

“Painting each other’s _nails_? Aoi,” she giggled, “what do you even think we do when we hang out?”

He glanced at her polished, oval nails as her fingers slid over the steering wheel. The thought that crossed his mind exited his mouth before he could catch it. “How the hell do both of you even keep your nails so long, anyway? Doesn’t it…”

“You just have to be careful,” Clover replied, tapping the tips of her nails on the leather.

Careful of breaking, or careful of what he had originally been thinking, Aoi did not know, and God knows he did not ask.

When asked how tall he was, Light had said that the shorter a person is, the more precisely they seem to know their own height. Clover, for instance, knew that she was exactly one inch and three-quarters over five feet. Aoi knew he was a little over a hundred-sixty-six centimeters, but not quite a hundred-sixty-seven. Light’s best guess of his own height was as good as Aoi’s, after a conversion to imperial units: anywhere between six-foot-one and six-foot-three. If Light lifted his chin just a little, Aoi’s head fit right under it when they stood close together. Aoi gave a sheepish grin as he slid his left arm around Light’s slender waist for the first time. “I can actually give you a real damn hug now,” he mumbled.

Light’s voice sounded deeper when Aoi pressed an ear to his chest. “Are you being shy?”

Aoi was, in fact, being shy, if he would let himself admit it. Clover had stopped in the apartment after driving Aoi back from the clinic to change for her date and say goodnight to the boys, and then Aoi and Light were standing together in the foyer in silence. Light had lifted Aoi’s chin towards a long, slow kiss that made his heart pound harder than it had since the first time their lips touched. The position of his face—namely, pressed against Light’s collarbone—was a strategic move to hold some desperate control over the pace of the evening.

“Shall we retire to the bedroom?” Light invited, threading his fingers through Aoi’s hair.

Aoi’s heart gave another jitter. “You… you tired?” he asked, almost hoping for a yes just to spare himself the anxiety.

“Not in the least,” Light replied.

That was all he said before taking a step back from the embrace, his hands trailing down Aoi’s arms until his fingers lightly brushed Aoi’s palms, curled into just enough of a hook to draw Aoi with him as he walked backwards down the hall.

“Are you comfortable?” Light asked as they entered his bedroom, lit by a dying sunset. “I could leave the room if you’d like to change.”

“The hell’re you even playin’ at,” Aoi muttered.

Light smirked and shut the door. “Well, you _were_ being shy.”

This was not Aoi’s first rodeo, so to speak. He had guessed, and Light had recently confirmed, that he was the more experienced of the two young men, if they played the numbers game. He had had taller men than Light, more beautiful men, much more muscular, but Light was still somehow more intimidating than all of them combined. There was the obvious point that Light was much smarter than any man Aoi had ever known, let alone known in the biblical sense. The biggest reason that he was so nervous, of course, was what Light said next.

“You’ve never slept with someone you’ve had to see the next day, have you?” he teased.

“I’ve had things with the same guy a few times,” Aoi sniffed.

Light leaned over Aoi’s shoulder to press a kiss to his cheek, a hot breath tickling his ear. “It is different when there’s a romantic attachment.”

Aoi smirked, leaning into the touch of Light’s lips. “Yeah, I’ve never had one o’ those.”

“Not that I would say it’s necessarily _better_.” Light straightened suddenly, standing stiff with his hands on Aoi’s shoulders as his face wrinkled with deep thought. “That’s a rather idealistic view. I certainly prefer it, but all I can objectively say is that it’s _different_. Not that any observation of something so subjective as personal experience could be called _objective_ —”

“Jesus Christ, shut up and kiss me.”

Light’s hair was only such a mess because it was delightfully soft. It had the volume of Clover’s hair, but each strand was wondrously fine, creating a pleasant playground for Aoi’s hands. He pulled his fingers through gentle tangles at the nape of Light’s neck as the young men pressed their bodies closer together than they had ever before dared.

It was not long before Aoi’s legs softened. He staggered back under the pressure of Light’s urgent kisses, until his hiked-up shoulders hit the wall behind him. Light threw an arm against the wall beside Aoi’s head and kissed him into it until Aoi was too weak to kiss back.

“Sorry,” he exhaled, running a finger over Aoi’s tingling lips as he gave a grin that did not look sorry at all. “I prefer to stay near the walls, you know.”

“Quit fuckin’ with me,” Aoi growled.

“Oh? My apologies, I thought that was what you wanted.”

Aoi opened his mouth to respond but could not find words strong enough, so he grabbed Light’s hips and shoved him against the wall. He dragged his teeth into the next fierce kiss. Light fought down a smile to keep kissing back.

His cool hands slid across Aoi’s chest and under his jacket, lifting it from his shoulders to let it sink down his arms. Aoi’s heart and his breath stuttered. His spinning world kept suddenly coming still at moments like these, where it all struck him that this was really happening.

“May I?” Light whispered against his lips, easing the sleeves down. “It’s hardly fair that you’ve had your turn at this with me already.”

“M-my turn at… what?” Aoi stammered weakly.

“I imagine you were the one tasked with, shall we say, _disrobing_ me.”

The next shiver to run across Aoi’s skin was a distinctly unpleasant one. With a grunt from the back of his throat, he shoved Light away from him, shrugging his jacket back onto his shoulders in the same motion. “Jesus fuck,” he growled, “why the _fuck_ would you…?”

Light had a smirk like he was waiting for a comeback, or for Aoi to let a smile slip into his voice. When none came after another beat of silence, his face fell as he realized he had made a faux-pas.

“Look, I’m _sorry_ , okay?! I’m sorry we dragged you into it, I’m sorry we couldn’t _tell_ you anything,” Aoi yelled, “I’m sorry I had to fucking save your life by giving you a body double because _some_ fucker wanted to fucking kill you just to save his pride because he’ll fuckin’ kill anyone to get what he wants without battin’ a fuckin’ eye, even a fucking twelve-year-old gi—”

“I forgive you.” Light’s upper lip twitched. “I’ve told you I forgive you.”

“No, you don’t! Obviously you fuckin’ don’t!” Aoi snapped. “You keep bringin’ it up like this and _laughin’_ about it because it makes me squirm, and that’s what you _want_ , because you’re bitter and you want me to feel bad about it!”

Light’s twitching lips pulled back into a grimace. “That’s not true, Aoi,” he stated. “Those are not my intentions. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, you’re not, okay?! Just fucking admit it!” Aoi shot back. “We do this _every time_! If you hate me, just say it, and I’ll leave!”

Without waiting for Light to say anything, he stomped to his overflowing suitcase, stuffed the spilled contents back inside, zipped it up just enough to keep it from flying open, and hauled it up over his shoulder.

“Was only supposed to stay here till my arm healed up, anyway,” he grumbled. “Stitches are out. I’m out. Fine. Whatever.”

Light stood unmoving as Aoi marched past him and flung open the bedroom door.

He would look back at this episode and cringe, but in the moment, he did not consider it an overreaction, nor did he think himself dramatic. His mind was too busy working into all the small places he had left his things—the laptop and charger sinking into the couch cushions, the coffee beans in the kitchen cabinet that were too strong for anyone but him, the toiletries in the bathroom (he would have to take the hallway entrance to get to them rather than backtrack into the bedroom)—to see himself clearly. Playing in the background of his thoughts were the familiar assurances that he did not need love, and that was good, because he did not deserve it, either.

He had tossed all of his medications on top of his clothes, thrown inside the still-wet items from the shower, shoved the open bag of coffee beans into a small outside pocket into which it barely fit, and was wrapping the charging cable around his laptop as some kind of terrible cushion when he remembered that his phone charger was right next to the pillow he had claimed as his own on Light’s bed. That was what made him pause, sigh, and crouch on the floor in front of the couch, pressing the heels of his palms into his aching forehead. When he lifted his head to rest his cheeks in his hands, he came face to face with the pillar of Light’s silent harp.

Aoi did not often have the patience or the quiet of mind to listen to Light’s music, not in the way Clover did, curled up on the couch in a trance as she listened to him play and sometimes talk. There was one time Aoi’s ears latched onto a song in a way they had not since he was in middle school, when emotions had a stronger grip on his heart than he let them have these days. It felt like a flowing waltz in places, but then sometimes it felt like a lurching dance that was missing a beat somewhere, and Aoi could not figure out where, and that was the part that hurt to listen to. When he settled on the couch to focus on the melody, Light had said something about being able to play with the number nine in two different ways. Somehow it did not surprise Aoi that the piece was called _Nonary_ , nor that it was his most complimented song at concerts.

“Aoi?”

The voice was soft, but clearly audible. Aoi, holding his breath, did not move a muscle.

“I haven’t heard the front door open, so I assume you’re here somewhere,” Light continued, his voice slightly raised so that it would reach all of the odd corners of the apartment. “But even if I’m speaking to an empty room… I would do well to finally say this aloud to myself.”

Slowly, Aoi lifted his hands to his ears. Light had taught him the physics of how extending the surface area of one’s outer ears caught more sound waves, creating the crisp transmission Aoi now heard of Light’s distant voice.

“I was wrong,” Light said with a sigh. “To be perfectly honest, that alone is something I have difficulty saying, in any circumstance.”

Aoi rolled his eyes.

“You were right. I don’t forgive you. I can’t.”

The words did not stab, because Aoi already knew the truth. Hearing it confirmed was more like a twist on the knife already lodged in his gut.

“I _want_ to forgive you, I assure you,” Light said. “When I lay the facts end-to-end… It was the only way to save your sister’s life, and you also used it to punish the ones who caused all of this. There are nights I’m only able to fall asleep because I remember they can never hurt us again. I am _grateful_ for that. Logically speaking, I cannot find any reason I should bear you any ill will, so I told you I’ve forgiven you. I thought that was enough.”

The feeling of having a knife shoved inside him and twisted grew incredibly real. Aoi bristled and shook his head of a fake memory of the man he had finally conquered.

“To be clear, I do believe I’ve forgiven you for what you’ve done to me,” Light said. “I… I _cannot_ forgive you for what you did to Clover.”

Light did not have to say why. Too many times she had crept into the bedroom, terrified to tears from nightmares, wretched and inconsolable. The first night Aoi witnessed it, Light had said that she had done this more often over the last couple of years than before. Every other time, Light insisted that she had always been like this and it was nothing he should worry about.

“But I don’t hate you.” Light sighed. “I’ve… never been very adept at dealing with the complex nuances of my own emotion, to be honest. Reconciling the fact that I have not truly forgiven you with the fact that I… like you very much, Aoi, I… well, it all seemed rather improbable for one person to be capable of both, and I was very sure I liked you, so, naïvely, I assumed I had forgiven you.”

Aoi tried to keep his breath from spilling so loudly from his lips, but the heavy sigh fell out despite his best efforts. Light’s footsteps advanced as soon as he made the sound.

“I’ve told you before, if I am bitter, it is not because of you,” he said. “That’s still true. It still isn’t your fault. That doesn’t mean you won’t still be the perhaps undeserving target of my resentment.”

He appeared at the open arch that led from the hallway to the living room. It looked like gravity was pulling down on him harder than anyone else in the world.

“I think, until Clover feels safe every night, I will not truly forgive you,” he uttered. “And yet I still want to be with you. That’s all. Do with that information whatever you’d like.”

He leaned against the wall with his hand gripping the corner, as if he needed the support to stay upright. Aoi had learned a little bit about Light as he peeled back layer after layer, day by day, and one of those little things he had learned was how much Light hated to acknowledge his own infallibility and irrationality. He guided himself entirely by logic, and he was frustrated when his feelings did not follow him. Books were an escape into sculpted worlds where every action, every bit of dialogue had meaning and purpose—even chaos was calculated.

The harp was a newer habit than the books, and a better one. The harp was where he took his feelings and gave them purpose.

“Do you mind if I play the harp for a bit?” he asked.

Aoi dragged his suitcase out of the way of Light’s path to the stool behind the harp and climbed up onto the couch. The sounds were an adequate substitute for words.

Somehow it did not surprise him that the song Light chose to play was _Nonary_.

As the melody stumbled uneasily over an awkward beat, Aoi asked, “What’s the thing with nine in this one, again?”

“The meter,” responded Light slowly, with half of his focus on the harp. “There are two basic ways to count in nine. Usually nine is done as a compound three, commonly expressed as nine-eight, but—”

“Look, I asked you again ’cuz I didn’t understand it the first time. Can you explain it in a way that makes sense or no?”

Light barely smiled as he dipped his head with a chuckle, fingers still plunking out dissonant, heavy chords in that uncertain beat. “It’s a way of grouping beats,” he said. “Meter tells us how many beats are in a measure. But if I say there are nine beats in a measure—well, that’s enough beats that we might want to divide them down further into subgroups. Our brains are more comfortable with smaller groups—the psychological phenomenon of chunking applies to music, as well, one might say.”

Aoi’s eyes snapped to the motion of Light’s hands leaving the bass strings and coming to the upper register. His toes curled over the pedals, and with a quiet grind, he changed keys. He had truncated the first movement to move to the waltz.

“This is what I mean by a compound three,” he explained. “I have nine beats per measure, but I place the emphasis on the first of every three. Three larger beats, and three subdivisions per beat, comes to nine. It’s the most common way to play in nine. It’s pleasant. Very human.”

The lilting tune cascaded down in an improvisation back to the painful theme.

“I’ll tell you the secret to this part, though that may ruin the effect,” he said. “I’ve grouped the nine beats in three groups of two and one group of three for a total of nine per measure. This one is two, three, two, two. Listen.”

Light counted it out in a gentle whisper. Every _one_ came with a strong chord, every _two_ with a weaker beat. Aoi could anticipate the rare _three_ after hearing the pattern repeated a couple of times, but for the first few measures, _three_ was just the place where his heart wanted the heaviness of a _one_. It was the place where he felt that missing beat.

“It feels… chaotic, if you don’t know the pattern,” Light murmured after enough repetitions to make his point. “I wanted to evoke that sense of chaos. That… unsettling feeling. So, I also moved the compound beat—the group of three—around in the measure, every time the phrase changes, so that even if your ear catches onto the pattern, you will soon lose it again.”

His fingers gripped the strings with more force, picking up speed in a pattern Aoi could no longer count. Light’s face went stony as he worked the pedals to combine chords that felt uncomfortable next to one another.

“This is my hatred, and my fear,” he said, letting the last tumultuous chord ring in the air. “And this… well, it’s my faith, hope, love, and luck, to say it succinctly.”

With that introduction, Aoi heard Clover in the waltz-like song that resurfaced, starting first in the shortest, thinnest strings, then expanding to swelling chords in the full register that the harp had to offer.

“I shouldn’t find my feelings for you so strange,” Light murmured. “It’s the same duality. _Nonary_ expresses everything I hated about what we went through, but also the fond feelings I have for those who endured it with me. It all runs together into something gray. I can let it be gray without picking apart which pieces are black and which…”

He furrowed his brow through his last line, left unfinished. His tempo slowed to a practice pace as he played the waltz’s melody with his right hand and the ugly chords on their uneven beats in his left.

“Here we are,” he sighed after he got the hang of it. “In case this metaphor wasn’t already blatant enough, I’ll have you know I’ve never even considered superimposing the two themes until this moment. You could say I’ve written a song for you, Aoi.”

“What, half of you hates me?” muttered Aoi, watching his left hand grasp strange combinations of strings.

“No. I’m afraid. Terrified.” Light let the strings ring out after he came to the end of the strain. “In a lovely, lovely way.”

He hugged the strings with flat palms and forearms to silence the ring. Wearing a glowing smile pointed at Aoi, he rested his head against the shoulder of the harp, his soft hair catching in the tuning pegs and pins. As the hot quiet lingered, his fingers curled around the harp strings without plucking, and his toes squirmed over the pedals without turning them.

Aoi crossed his legs. “Knock it off.”

Light proved he knew exactly what he was doing when his quivering smile grew wider and he brought his shoulders closer to his ears, but he still replied, “Knock what off?”

“Quit lookin’ so cute next to your harp and come look cute next to me.”

“This is a plot to make me trip over your suitcase, and I shan’t fall for it.”

Aoi winced. “Can you just… never say _shan’t_ , ever?”

Light crossed one leg over his knee to turn away from his harp and slid effortlessly to his feet. “This coming from someone for whom _ain’t_ is a prominent part of their regular vocabulary.”

“Listen, fucker,” Aoi said, kicking his suitcase out of the way of Light’s path to the couch, “that’s a word people’ve used in _this fucking century_.”

“I disagree,” Light replied, hands on his hips, “on the basis that it’s not a _word_.”

“Babe, you turn me on when you talk about smart shit, alright, but not when you’re an ass about it.”

“You turn _me_ on with your crude flirtations, but not when you call me _babe_ while you do so.”

“So… we ain’t turned on right now?” Aoi said with a smirk.

Light returned the look. “Decidedly unaroused.”

“I moved the suitcase out of the way.”

With that invitation, Light draped himself over Aoi’s lap, ensnared him in his arms, and captured him in a kiss that blended into the next, and the next. As soon as the tips of their tongues slipped between their lips to flirt with one another, Aoi dipped Light back, kissing him down into the seat of the couch. He wanted to slide his legs out from underneath Light, to climb over him, straddle his stomach, and press something hot against him as their kisses deepened. Before he got that chance, Light had wound his legs around his trunk, pulling him closer. When he caught his breath, he felt something hot against his own stomach.

Light trailed kisses past his lips, up along his cheekbones, all the way to his ear. “Can I see you?” he breathed.

Aoi shuddered at the hungry touch of Light’s hands on his neck. “What do you mean?” he whispered.

“Let me see you.” As Light’s hands sank down his neck, they slid along the contours of his bones and his muscles, dipping inside the neckline of his shirt. “I want to know you by heart.”

Aoi was able to keep his voice out of the heady sigh that rushed out of his chest as Light pressed a wet kiss to the soft spot on his neck under the corner of his jawline. “God, yeah,” he exhaled, his fingers curling around the thin t-shirt keeping him from Light’s skin.

Light forced Aoi’s hands back to finally remove the jacket from his arms. His thumbs swam over Aoi’s tense biceps. His fingers curled around every bone and curve. When he met Aoi’s palms, he clasped them desperately, intertwining their fingers and pulling himself closer. He kissed his way back from Aoi’s jaw to his lips. Aoi could not stifle a little moan this time when he felt Light’s tongue slide against his. That made Light’s lips quirk towards a smile, untangle his fingers from Aoi’s grip, and cup his face with both hands, fingertips trembling as they read the surface of his skin.

Every touch sent a wave of electric heat through his body, building up at the base of his core. The waves grew stronger when Light’s hands slipped back down his neck, down his chest, pressing flat to read him underneath his cotton shirt. By the prominence of the tendons in the back of his hands, Aoi could see he was desperately trying to hold back the pressure of his touch. His kisses fell lower, too, sinking down Aoi’s neck until his lips settled into the hollow above his collarbone. In his fists, he tangled the bottom hem of a shirt Aoi suddenly decided he would not mind having ripped open.

Light lifted his head, eyelashes fluttering, red lips ajar. “Can I see all of you?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” Aoi’s voice was thin and fragile. When he lifted his hands to let the shirt slide off of his arms, they were shaking.

He shivered at the chill touching his exposed chest, and again at the feel of Light’s fingers against his skin—cool, but not too cold that he did not feel heat in every touch. Light traced the soft outline of Aoi’s pectoral muscles, running down where they met at the sternum, skimming along the underside, then pausing at the outer edges to move up and run his thumbs over Aoi’s—

He heard the high noise that came out of his throat before he realized he had made it. Light’s eyes flashed open. He froze in place, holding a blank stare to Aoi’s chest.

“Shut up,” Aoi hissed.

Light lifted his chin, his cloudy eyes glittering in the lamplight as he started to grin. “Do _not_ shut up,” he said. “Are you especially sensitive there, or are you…?”

Aoi shuddered violently enough that Light would feel it under his hands. “Am I w-what?”

Light did not finish his question. His fingers moved in circles down each of Aoi’s abdominal muscles, barely visible without the right lighting, but easy to see for the tactile viewer. Aoi gasped when he felt Light’s thumbs slip past his waistband. He had to clamp his mouth shut and tense every muscle in his body to keep from making another disgusting sound when Light’s warm lips left his collarbone and began a slow journey south.

“Aoi,” Light murmured into the warming flesh of his upper chest, “if I cannot have the satisfaction of seeing your face, I _refuse_ to let you deny me the joy of hearing your voice.”

Aoi was not planning to give him that joy, but then the point of a tongue circled his nipple and he let go of another high, tight moan.

Light had a giddy grin when he raised his head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re _perfect_?”

“N-no, ’cuz that’s fuckin’ bullsh-shit,” Aoi shot back.

“Allow me to be the first.”

Through his racing breaths, he could not keep his chest steady as Light worked his way down it with open-mouthed kisses. When one lip brushed the upper edge of his pants, he could take it no longer.

“Light, listen, I fucked up,” he groaned. “I’m wearin’ skinny jeans. You’re _killin’_ me.”

Light buried a smiling kiss deep into a hollow made by Aoi’s hipbone as his hands ran down the back of those skinny jeans, appraising their contents with a healthy squeeze. “If you must rush me,” he sighed.

The heat of his breath made the fine hairs at Aoi’s waistline stand on end. All while pressing kisses to Aoi’s belly, he undid the button and unzipped the fly holding Aoi in place.

For a short while, he let his hands wander over Aoi’s legs through the denim, squeezing the soft parts of his thighs. The friction of the touch managed to distract Aoi from the feeling and the sight of his erection rising from between the teeth of his fly, untouched and crying out for contact. The pressure building inside him was starting to ache, but he would not give up the sensation of Light Field caressing and kissing every inch of him for anything in the world in that moment. His mind was sinking into a haze in which he could finally rejoice instead of fretting when he felt his boxer-briefs sliding down his ass as Light tried to peel back his pants.

“Ah.” Light stopped on a dime when he felt skin where he expected underwear. “Well, I was only intending to remove your jeans, but that seems to be more trouble than it’s worth. May I?”

“F-fucking… yeah.”

Aoi picked the narrow ankles around his heels as Light carefully lifted his waistband up and over a red and throbbing dick. Still in his t-shirt and sweatpants, Light had him completely naked on the couch, legs bent to his chest. He tried to pull Light’s earlier move, to wrap his legs around Light’s waist and pull him down on top of him, but Light took hold of his knees before he could try, and hooked them over his shoulders. And started kissing his way up Aoi’s inner thigh.

“You’re so tense,” Light murmured, his kisses growing slower as he came closer to the place tingling with so much sensation that Aoi could not feel where it began or ended. It was all one pulsing spot of pleasure that Light’s mouth was inching closer and closer to—and, on the other leg, his hand was following the same forbidden path, his thumb squeezing into his flesh.

Aoi was extremely tense. His fingers were curled like claws, digging into the couch cushions. He had his jaw clamped shut, no matter how much Light wanted to hear his embarrassing noises. His entire core was clenched tight to keep his hips from bucking. He could not breathe.

Light’s hand slid from his thigh to cup his balls gently before his fingers closed around his cock. Aoi took in the sight of Light holding him with wide eyes, until he felt lips against his ass, and his whole body gave a violent twitch.

Light loosened his hold and lifted his head at once, concern flooding his open eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“S-s-stop, f-fuck, s-stop.”

Light snapped back from Aoi instantly, maybe quickly enough to miss feeling the violent tremors making his teeth chatter. Aoi’s chest heaved for breath. He squeezed his legs together to keep from feeling anything more against him while he was so sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” Light uttered. “Is everything alright?”

“F-fuck, I jus-st…” Aoi shook his head, breathing heavily through his open mouth. “I w-wasn’t… wasn’t expectin’ that, I guess. Holy shit. Holy sh-sh-shit.”

Light smirked. “You didn’t expect me to want to eat you out?”

“Sh—sh-shut it,” Aoi groaned.

“I’m torn between that and sucking your cock, so if you would prefer the latter, I’d be happy to oblige.”

His pupils were clouded over, but they were still dilated to almost the full width of his iris. His smile was insatiable with desire. Aoi brought his shaking hands to Light’s cheeks. A light tug of his thumb at the chin pulled Light’s mouth open. His tongue flicked across his lips.

“God, Light,” Aoi breathed. “God, f-fucking…”

“What would you like, Aoi?” Light whispered, his hands inching back up Aoi’s inner thighs.

“I want that pretty mouth on my cock, holy _fuck_.”

Despite his delightful, hungry sneer, Light was gentler in his approach this time. He curled one hand around Aoi’s shaft again, giving it a gentle stroke along the full length that made Aoi’s toes curl in anticipation of what was to come. Light laid a trail of tingling kisses from the base to the tip, where he opened his mouth little by little, drawing slow circles with his tongue. His lips had enveloped the head, his tongue running along the drawn-back edge of the foreskin, when he gave a slight tug of sucking, ending as it began with a kiss on the tip.

“You feel more relaxed. Is this better?” he asked gently.

A better word would be hypnotized. Aoi was barely sure he was real.

“Aoi?”

“I’m f-fuckin’ great. _Jesus_.”

After flashing an irresistible smile, Light took even more of him swiftly back into his mouth. His tongue was the perfect blend of comfort and stimulation, dulling the ache with his heat, yet stirring it up to an even higher, more precarious peak with those graceful flicks.

“Aoi,” he whined with his mouth full of cock, “open your mouth.”

Aoi could not have resisted that command if he tried, and he was much too far gone to even try. His mouth hung ajar just as Light’s lips slid much further down than before.

He had to admit, he kind of did sound hot when he moaned.

Light hummed with delight and took another centimeter of Aoi into his mouth. The sight of himself disappearing between Light’s lips, plus that tight warmth wrapping around the head of his cock, made another moan slip out, weaker and higher. Light pulled back and gasped for air, then said again, “Mmm, you’re perfect, Aoi.”

“ _I’m_ perf-f-fect?” Aoi huffed, sliding his fingers through Light’s hair. “Y-you’re… you’re f-fuckin’… you pretty fuckin’ li’l…”

He could not find the words, especially not after Light took him back into his mouth. From an outside perspective, he looked deceptively slow; only Aoi could feel the truth, which was a rhythmically fluctuating vacuum drawing him in deeper at the whims of a devilish tongue tracing tantalizing patterns across his skin. He was leaving the bounds of his body, shaking underneath his own skin, being sucked into Light. The sounds ringing off the ceiling sounded startlingly like his own voice.

Light dragged the tip of his tongue down past the base, sending a fascinating chill through Aoi as he felt heat between his balls. His mouth shot open with a groan when Light sucked one testicle into his mouth, then trailed off into a whimper when he took the second. He grabbed desperately for his cock, but Light beat him to it, gliding gently over the slickness he had left behind. It was all so sweet, so pleasant, so loving.

Then Light released his scrotum and licked lower.

“Ohm… _oh_ m-my God.”

“Please?” Light whispered, and flicked his tongue down again.

“Oh, f-fuck, Light, f-f-f…”

He laid overlapping kisses in a slow path, and between each, he breathed another, “Please.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh m-my—oh m-m-my God, God, Light, L-Light, sh-shit, L-L-Light—”

Aoi already felt himself opening wide, begging for much more than just kisses. Light hovered at the edge and sucked at that sensitive skin.

“ _Yes_ , fuck, yes, y-yes, God!”

Light’s tongue lashed out to circle his entrance at the instant he was given the invitation, and then he showered him in kisses of every kind and from every angle, warming Aoi up to his touch, given his initial reaction to that kind of attention.

The reason Aoi had been so wary at first was because this contact drove him absolutely crazy. His limbs dissolved into uncertain, tingling clouds, and his mind faded into the same fog. The moaning wouldn’t stop even when he tried to hold his mouth closed. The steady pump of his cock was more of a distraction than anything else. He dragged Light’s hand away by the wrist; Light responded by using his two available hands to push Aoi’s thighs back against his chest, giving himself better access and the chance to slide his tongue inside.

He wanted more, needed more, needed everything, needed all of Light pounding into him and fucking him senseless. He knew about the cry that had left his lips, but it wasn’t until Light gave an inquisitive “hmm?” that he realized what he had started mumbling.

“F-fuck me. Ugh, f-f- _fuck_ m-me.”

“So impatient,” Light murmured with a gentle laugh.

“You’re s-s-so _good_.”

“Mmm…” Light looked skeptical as he sucked on the tip of his middle finger. “I think you’re just horny.”

His finger was cautious at Aoi’s open entrance, despite the encouraging, “God, y-yes, give it,” that Aoi was moaning. Aoi panted as Light slowly pushed deeper, holding himself open wide, until Light touched him where the world shakes. He clenched down, hard, and the ricochet rocked through his entire body.

With a satisfied smirk, Light took hold of Aoi’s throbbing cock. So casually he wrapped his mouth around it to make it slick for his hand.

“Time for another lesson in music theory,” he said.

“W-what?”

Aoi did not know that Light was entertaining himself by overlaying a steady subdivided four in the dick strokes with a quarter note triplet pattern of prostate touches, and eventually with the common syncopated pattern of splitting eight eighth notes into groups of three, three, and two, this carried out in changing the pressure with which he sucked Aoi’s testes. What Aoi did know was that he was being assaulted on all sides by irresistible contact, and every few seconds, they all happened at once, and he nearly screamed every time. Light swapped the rhythms between his hands, or changed them altogether, and soon he was practicing triplets over septuplets, then septuplets over quintuplets. Septuplets in the ass, quintuplets on his cock, and triplets over his balls seemed to be the rhythm that Aoi liked best.

“Oh God, God, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t, don’t, don’t, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck—”

And just then, when Aoi was about to ignite, Light’s finger went still inside him. It was followed, after a small delay, by the slowing of his other hand, then by the sound of suction popping unsealed when Light lifted his mouth. “Oh,” he murmured.

“N-n-no, no, w-why…?”

Shifting his left shoulder, Light frowned. “I think the battery’s run out.”

“N-no,” Aoi moaned, grinding into Light’s frozen hand. “Fuck, no… Th-that was… that was so…”

“Just kidding.”

Light shoved deeper into Aoi with a sneer at the cry he drew out. “You _motherfucker!_ ” he screamed. “You _piece_ of _shit_ , I’ll fucking _kill_ you, you _fucki_ —f-fuck, fu-u-uck, fuck fuck fuck, oh, God, ngh…”

After having taken most of Aoi’s cock into his mouth to shut him up, Light slowly slid back up to the tip. “We wouldn’t want you getting too close when I haven’t even gotten started,” he teased.

“I t-told you to fuck me,” Aoi retorted.

“Mm. Get me hard enough, first.”

With reckless abandon, Aoi flung his limp body at Light. He already knew the sharp angles of Light’s collarbones that extended out to his bony shoulders, the slight dip in his thin chest where his ribs met at a concave sternum, the line of soft fuzz growing thicker, wider, and darker as it trailed down his abdomen and into his boxer briefs. He had wanted to touch every inch of Light’s body even then. Now he wanted to grab it, to kiss it, to press himself against it and make it his.

He shoved Light’s shirt up but lacked the patience to actually bring it over his head, not while Light’s soft, pale flesh invited him to dig his fingers in and squeeze. He tried to kiss, but in the scent of sweat and sex, he lost control of himself, baring tongue and teeth as his lust compelled him. He knew what he wanted. After dragging Light’s waistband down, he took it, all of it, in his mouth, holding his breath to keep his throat open.

“Oh, _Aoi_ ,” Light sighed, raking his fingers through Aoi’s hair.

He was swelling and firming in Aoi’s mouth. Aoi wrapped his tongue around him in delight at the sensation, clockwise, then counterclockwise. His throat ached to let out a moan, but he was blocking his windpipe to keep from gagging. The moan won out, and so did a retch that made him draw swiftly back and cough.

“Aoi, dear, don’t choke yourself,” Light uttered, running a thumb down his chin as his brow knit up with concern. “I assure you, I’m impressed.”

“Shut the fuck, I do what I want.”

If Light was going to find out by the girly whimpers and obnoxious moans that Aoi was a kinky fucker, then Aoi was not going to hold back when it came time to pleasure him. He took Light deep inside again, yearning to reach the base with his lips.

“Shut the fuck?” Light repeated with a weak laugh. His hands ran all over Aoi’s face and hair, drinking in the sight of him as best he could. “You may have… _mmm_ , missed a word there, dearest.”

Aoi never had the last word with Light, aside from “an ad hominem attack, which doesn’t exactly count,” as Light had put it. His comeback did not have to be verbal now. He was going to win this battle with his tongue in a different way.

“Ah, _ah_ , Aoi,” Light gasped, curling his fingers into fists around Aoi’s hair.

Aoi set his benchmark. If he managed to make Light swear outside of a direct quotation, he would consider himself victorious. He wrapped his fingers around Light’s girth at the base and began to slowly rock up and down in time with his bobbing head.

“Oh, you… you pretty, pretty boy,” he whispered, his smile twitching. His right hand was trembling against Aoi’s cheek.

Aoi broke the suction, but did not take his tongue off of the head, to say, in a voice that swung between the highest and lowest parts of his speaking range, “You can’ even shee me, pre’y boy.”

Light bit his lip through a smile and let out something more like a hum than a moan, to Aoi’s mild disappointment. “But I _know_ ,” he protested. “I hear you. I _feel_ you. You’re _beautiful_.”

“Shu’up, fuckin’ poet,” Aoi retorted, and swallowed him down again to feel him against the back of his throat.

Light’s hips gave a twitch. “ _Oh,_ Aoi, _please_.”

“Please wha?”

“Didn’t your… didn’t anyone…” His voice was weak and breathy when it was not dangerously high. “…teach you not to talk with your… m-m-mouth full?”

“You were gonna shay my mom,” Aoi accused.

“I caught myself.”

Aoi slipped his left hand into Light’s sagging pants to cup the warmth between his legs, while his right returned to its steady rhythm along with his mouth. “Please wha?” he repeated, dragging his tongue down the underside of Light’s dick.

Light’s legs seized up, squeezing Aoi’s cheeks with his thighs. “ _Mmm_ , Aoi…”

“Please wha?”

Aoi clamped down his breath and took Light in deep. Light threw his head back even before Aoi started rocking his jaw to make his throat squeeze. He had always known he could hold his breath longer for cuter boys, but being with Light was taking that to new extremes.

“Aoi—y-y-you— _unbelievable_ —”

Light’s face was flushed to his ears. Aoi watched his eyelashes flutter, failing to stay closed, as he licked along Light’s length through a smile and heavy panting. He nestled his face between Light’s legs, pressing kisses through the pale brown hair on his sack. “Really,” he said, “please what?”

“Y-you seem to know… _very_ well wh—what will please me,” Light panted.

Aoi pressed his tongue against the kisses to make them wet and warm. He dug his chin deeper into the crevice between Light’s thighs to bring his kisses lower.

“Oh, _God_ , absolutely not,” Light groaned. “If you do that, we’ll be fighting over who gets to be fucked by whom.”

He did swear, but Aoi certainly was not going to be satisfied by a technicality. He knew what he wanted, and he had an idea of how to get it. As he dragged his tongue back up Light’s cock, he asked, “You wanna get fucked?”

“No, Aoi,” he sighed, “I want to—”

Hand around the base. Throat open. Up and down, deep as he could take it, desperate to please.

“F-f-fuck, _fuck!_ ”

Aoi had won. He lifted his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, wearing a stupid grin.

“God, Aoi, please, _please_ let me,” Light whispered. He reached forward with both hands when he lost Aoi’s mouth. His left was stable, but his right was shaking so fast Aoi wanted to ask him to put it in his ass instead of a vibrator.

“Babe, I want you,” Aoi exhaled, catching his hands. “You got, uh, supplies?”

Light blinked. “In—in my bedroom. Yes. I can…”

When he slid one foot off of the couch, it landed inside Aoi’s half-open suitcase. He let out his shakiness in a heavy, unvoiced laugh.

“Why don’t I go prepare our supplies while you take this bag back to my room?” he suggested. “You are… staying, after all, aren’t you?”

With his clothes half-removed, his hair disheveled, his face glistening with sweat and pink with lust, and his eyes glittering with affection, Light looked like the most beautiful person Aoi had ever seen in his life. He tried to speak, but the words got caught somewhere between his lungs and his lips, so he let his lips speak without words. Light held him so tightly as they shared that warm kiss. It was far from a promise, but it was certainly a message: _I don’t know what’s going to happen with us, but I like you a lot, and I want to find out._

Light was waiting at the edge of the bed, his pants around his ankles, sheathed in latex and shining with lubricant, by the time that Aoi, carrying a fistful of his own clothes, returned to the bedroom and shoved his suitcase back where it belonged. He had made a detour to the kitchen after zipping up his bag, because otherwise he was going to be a very grumpy boy tomorrow morning when he looked for his coffee in the cupboard, considering his plan for the rest of the night was to get fucked so hard he could no longer walk.

The way Light raised his head when he entered the room made Aoi wonder if that was how this evening was really going to end. Aoi could feel the lust coming off of him in waves of heat, but it was gentle, affectionate. He was not going to fuck Aoi senseless—at least, not through sheer force. He was going to bewitch him.

“Kiss me,” Light whispered.

Aoi planted his hands on Light’s shoulders and straddled his legs as they sank into a deep kiss. It broke only when Aoi finally yanked Light’s shirt over his head. Light kicked his pants off of his ankles. They were pure flesh.

Light squeezed Aoi’s behind, his hand creeping further inward. “Let me,” he said between kisses, “warm you up.”

“Gimme,” Aoi breathed.

The first lubed finger slid in like it was coming home. Aoi was already imagining how more of this would feel, even more pressure rubbing against him in that spot that felt like it took over his entire body when Light stroked it the right way. Light felt his ass begging for more, and the second finger crept slowly inside.

“ _Oh_ , y-yeah, yeah,” Aoi moaned. “Light, I w-want it.”

“Shh, you’re still so tight, Aoi,” Light cooed.

He had taken to kissing Aoi’s neck after Aoi lost control of his own mouth. By sound and by touch, he found the most sensitive, sensual parts of Aoi’s skin, nipping and licking and sucking when he heard Aoi’s nonverbal approval, or when he felt Aoi’s body respond around his fingers.

“Mmm, that’s good,” Light murmured.

The friction of Light’s fingerprints gliding effortlessly against him set him on fire. He wanted it to be the ridge on the head of Light’s cock inside him. He wanted Light to be moaning along with him. He wanted to say all of these things, but it all came out as garbled nonsense because there was a pretty boy kissing his neck and stroking his ass and telling him how good he was.

“Are you ready?” Light asked. “Do you want it?”

“ _Mmmnn_ , I… I wan… ah…”

“Do you want it, Aoi?”

“Gi… gim… I w-w-w… f-f-f-fuck-k m-m-mmmm…”

“I’ll fuck you when you’ve had your fill of riding me.”

He was shaking with need when Light slid his fingers back out. He felt cool latex press against him, up, filling him, completing him. Underneath the sound of Aoi’s delighted whimpering, Light’s breath was shallow. With a struggle, Aoi opened his eyes and focused on Light’s face as he slid down as far as he could take him.

Awestruck, vulnerable, and gorgeous, Light Field whispered to him, “Oh, Aoi, you’re _perfect_.”

Aoi was going to make him come.

He shoved down against Light’s shoulders to make him lie back, scooping his fingers into his flesh. He rocked his body around, finding the angle just a few degrees away from easy, so that Light rubbed him _there_ , right _there_ , where everything went white-hot and wonderful and he could not feel his legs.

“Show me,” Light breathed, bucking into him. “Show me where you like it.”

“Sh-sh-show m-me wher-re y-y- _you_ like it,” Aoi begged.

Light lost his air in a desperate sigh. “Everywhere,” he uttered. “God, _everywhere_. Aoi, you’re s-so good. Aoi…”

His right hand crept down from holding Aoi’s hip. Slowly, his fingers curled around Aoi’s cock. That was all he had to do.

Aoi was being pulled, was pulling himself, in every direction. When he slid up Light’s cock, he drove his own into Light’s warm hand. When he withdrew from Light’s hand, he slammed down and filled his ass with Light again. He felt himself teetering on the edge; he was going to have to slow down if he wanted to last long enough for Light to finish, but the pleasure was addicting. He wanted to get as close as he possibly could, to live forever in this space where Light’s pretty face was smiling up at him and his pretty cock was filling his ass and his pretty hand was wrapped around his dick.

“Come on me,” Light whimpered.

It was fun while it lasted.

A shockwave flew out from inside him, rippling through his muscles and turning everything to fuzz. The pressure shot out and he was floating in space. His body quaked where it was wrapped around Light, and, God, Light was covered in his mess, bathed in it, his face one of twisted ecstasy.

Aoi felt a hot twitch inside him that was not his own. Light had come, too.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled weakly. His vision was pulsing, and his body was like lead now that it had stopped floating. “Sh-shit. F-fuck. Don’t… don’t move. Sh-sh-shit, I… I’m… I’m s…”

“You’re perfect,” Light whispered, his lips permanently stuck in a giddy grin.

Aoi exhaled. Slowly and shakily, he leaned over Light, panting, struggling to rest his weight on one arm while he rubbed Light’s lips clean before a kiss that felt like it had stopped the whole world.

When, after an eternity, their lips parted, Light sighed, “Release me from your sphincter posthaste or I’ll soon become a double amputee.”

Aoi almost moved too quickly, too eager to do anything Light asked. He was used to the sense of post-coital euphoria, the general glow cast on things he usually saw in a negative light. He was not used to this glow coming from one shining person, a beacon making everything brighter.

“I’m… I’m gonna get you a towel, babe,” he said. “O-okay?”

Light smiled warmly. “Perfect,” he said yet again.

It was still a bullshit word, one that did not and could not apply to real people. Yet, in this moment, _perfect_ was the word rolling around in Aoi’s head to describe the man with whom he had just had sex, next to whom he wanted to wake up tomorrow morning, whom he wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss until the end of the world. His legs were shaking as he stood at the sink and ran warm water over a corner of a week-old towel, and he was not sure it was from the sex.

He handed the towel to Light only after curbing the urge to run the towel over his beautiful body himself, and just before he sat staring at the wall, trying to control his unsteady breathing.

“Are you alright?” Light asked, scrubbing his neck with the terrycloth.

“Y-yeah,” Aoi forced out. “It’s… yeah. You said before. It’s different with… with someone you like.”

Light paused, wearing a curious grin. “Better?”

“I dunno, I think you’re just good in bed. Not a fair comparison.”

“I’m flattered, Aoi,” Light said with a rosy smile, balling up the towel in his lap. “Might I extend the same compliment to you?”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Light smirked, reaching over the side of the bed for his shirt. “Well, you have a _magnificent_ body.”

“Nah, I knew that, too.”

Aoi watched in silent fascination as Light plucked the shirt from the floor and, after checking its orientation by the position of the tag, threw it over his head. His face was relatively blank until he threaded the second of his arms through the sleeves, and then there was the first twitch of discomfort, which kept building as he tugged the shirt down his chest. It finally disappeared with a moment of epiphany when the lower hem would reach no farther than his belly button.

“I ain’t takin’ it back,” Aoi blurted. “I’m takin’ yours. No trades. It’s yours now.”

“This is your…”

“Nope. Yours now. No trades.”

On Light, the sleeves were short enough that they exposed the metal ring in his left arm where his prosthetic joined to his shoulder. The cloth ran too tightly around his chest and exposed a hint of the midriff Aoi had kissed and wanted to kiss again.

“This isn’t even…” Light tugged at the sleeves with a pitiful grin, unable to get the seam to line up with the end of his shoulder. “I’m sure _you_ would look very cute in _my_ shirt, but don’t I look rather silly?”

“Babe, I just had sex with you, and you’re the most beautiful fuckin’ person I’ve ever met in my entire life, and I’m…”

 _In love with you_.

“Really tired,” Aoi mumbled instead.

His heart ached for the next few beats it gave after that. It started pounding again when Light gave him that adoring smile and wrapped a hand around his waist.

“You’re very sweet,” Light said, “but I’m _also_ quite tired, and I’d like to fall asleep in something that won’t chafe twenty percent of the surface area of my body, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, fine,” Aoi grumbled. “But I want the shirt you were just wearing. It’s a trophy.”

He hugged his trophy to his chest after slipping it over his head. When Light was digging through his drawers near the closet, far enough not to hear breathing or rustling fabric, Aoi pulled the neckline of the shirt over his nose and inhaled. His head went blank, and everything felt warm and safe.

He was in love.


End file.
